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Except for the dark blue wall-to-wall, the room was bare. Isabel was chained to the wall on one side of the room—with silver, of course. Hugo was on the other. He was chained, too. They were both awake, and they both looked at the doorway, naturally.

Isabel nodded as if we’d met in the mall, though she was naked. I saw that her wrists and ankles were padded to prevent the silver from burning her, though the chains would still keep her weak.

Hugo was naked, too. He could not take his eyes off Isabel. He barely glanced at me to see who I was before his gaze returned to her. I tried not to be embarrassed, because that seemed such a petty consideration; but I think it was the first time I’d seen another naked adult in my life, besides Bill.

Stan said, “She cannot feed off him, though she is hungry. He cannot have sex with her, though he is addicted. This is their punishment, for months. What would happen to Hugo in human courts?”

I considered. What had Hugo actually done that was indictable?

He’d deceived the vampires in that he’d been in the Dallas nest under false pretenses. That is, he actually loved Isabel, but he’d betrayed her compadres. Hmmm. No law about that.

“He bugged the dining room,” I said. That was illegal. At least, I thought it was.

“How long in jail would he get for that?” Stan asked.

Good question. Not much, was my guess. A human jury might feel bugging a vampire hangout was even justified. I sighed, sufficient answer for Stan.

“What other time would Hugo serve?” he asked.

“He got me to the Fellowship under false pretenses . . . not illegal. He . . . well, he . . .”

“Exactly.”

Hugo’s infatuated gaze never shifted from Isabel.

Hugo had caused and abetted evil, just as surely as Godfrey had committed evil.

“How long will you keep them there?” I asked.

Stan shrugged. “Three or four months. We will feed Hugo, of course. Not Isabel.”

“And then?”

“We’ll unchain him first. He will get a day’s head start.”

Bill’s hand clamped down on my wrist. He didn’t want me to ask any more questions.

Isabel looked at me and nodded. This seemed fair to her, she was saying. “All right,” I said, holding my palms forward in the “Stop” position. “All right.” And I turned and made my way slowly and carefully down the stairs.

I had lost some integrity, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I could do differently. The more I tried to think about it, the more confused I got. I am not used to thinking through moral issues. Things are bad to do, or they aren’t.

Well, there was a gray area. That’s where a few things fell, like sleeping with Bill though we weren’t married or telling Arlene her dress looked good, when in fact it made her look like hell. Actually, I couldn’t marry Bill. It wasn’t legal. But then, he hadn’t asked me.

My thoughts wandered in a dithery circle around the miserable couple in the upstairs bedroom. To my amazement, I felt much sorrier for Isabel than for Hugo. Hugo, after all, was guilty of active evil. Isabel was only guilty of negligence.

I had a lot of time to maunder on and on through similar dead-end thought patterns, since Bill was having a rip-roaring good time at the party. I’d only been to a mixed vampire and human party once or twice before, and it was a mixture that was still uneasy after two years of legally recognized vampirism. Open drinking—that is, bloodsucking—from humans was absolutely illegal, and I am here to tell you that in Dallas’s vampire headquarters, that law was strictly observed. From time to time, I saw a couple vanish for a while upstairs, but all the humans seemed to come back in good health. I know, because I counted and watched.

Bill had mainstreamed for so many months that apparently it was a real treat for him to get together with other vampires. So he was deep in conversation with this vamp or that, reminiscing about Chicago in the twenties or investment opportunities in various vampire holdings around the world. I was so shaky physically that I was content to sit on a soft couch and watch, sipping from time to time at my Screwdriver. The